I had lost my voice, and during the occasional periods of sensibility, I could only speak in a startled whisper, while my brain in hideous delirium would constantly take me back to the scenes through which I had just passed. I remember my stretcher being lifted and being placed in a horse-drawn ambulance with several others. Before leaving, the M.O. gave me a bottle of water, and so great was my thirst that for several days I kept this tightly gripped in my hand, and would not part with it except to get it refilled. I have a hazy idea of being transferred from one ambulance to another, and several journeys. The ground was very rough, and the shaking of the wagon seemed to cause great pain to other occupants. The bumping to my own head compelled me to raise it from the pillow and resist the jolts by resting it on my hand. Where I spent Monday night I do not know, but on Tuesday night I found myself in what must have been a small hospital in a town I do not remember. It seemed to me that I was in a sort of basement of a private house, and that a man and woman were watching over me, exhibiting very great kindness and compassion. I seemed to awaken from my stupor, and remember some snatches of conversation, as they bent over me, for they could both speak a little English. Blood and clay were still caked on my face and hair; and my uniform was sticky with blood and grime. Oh, how I wished I could take it off and be put into clean clothes and a bed! The man was taking off my boots: "Dese very goot boots, yah?" I assented in a whisper. "You have dem give you, yah?" "No," I whispered, "bought them myself." "Where do you buy such goot boots?" "London." "Ah, yah. I thought you would not get such goot boots for nothings. Look after dem well; we don't get goot boots like dat here." I whispered to him: "What is that noise?" "Ah, it is a pity. Ze English zey have been firing ze long-range guns here, big guns. Zay carry twenty-seven miles. Ve moved dis hospital two times, yah." The woman came up to my stretcher with a basin of soup. I shall never forget that basin of soup. It was probably very ordinary soup, but when I tasted the first spoonful I devoured it ravenously, for all this time I had not realised that I was suffering from starvation. For the past three days not an atom of food had passed my lips, and for two days previous to that an occasional bite of bread and cheese was my only ration. Even now I was not destined to receive the nourishment my body craved for; for one basin of soup per day was all I received during the remainder of that week. Still grasping my bottle of water under my blanket, I was removed next morning and placed in a freight truck with two others, one a sergeant in the Guards, and the other a private in the ----, London Regiment. We were locked in the truck, and kept there for many hours without food or conveniences of any kind, and finally arrived at St. Quentin.